Not Today Beast, by Arealius the Scribe

 

This Gorean Fan Fiction was generated using MetaAI. 

Please note that the Gorean Saga is a fictional series, and its world,

customs, and values may not align with modern societal standards or moral principles.

Gor is Copyrighted by John Norman

Not Today, Beast! 

By Arealius the Scribe

I sit here, an old man, my eyes gazing into the flames of the fire pit. My mind wanders back to the day that changed my life forever – the day I faced the Kur. I was a vagabond then, a disgraced scribe from Port Kar, exiled and forced to flee. The caste of Scribes had cast me out, and I'd lost everything: my home, my family, my reputation. 

But I refused to surrender. I took up the life of a merchant, traveling the Vosk and Olni Rivers, seeking redemption. The Thentis Mountains beckoned, and beyond them, the mystical Sardar Mountains.

It was on this journey that I met Lady Sorana, the ward of Ubar Jake of the Soaring Herlit. Her beauty and wit captivated me, and to my surprise, she saw past my rough exterior to the man beneath. Sorana's smile could light the darkest corners of my soul. She found my roguish nature and free-spirited sense of adventure intriguing, and I was drawn to her fire.

But fate had other plans. That fateful day, I walked the winding road from the river landing to the Soaring Herlit's gates. Lost in thought, I didn't notice the danger lurking nearby.

The Kur ambushed me, its claws ripping through my back like hot knives. I screamed, my vision blurring.

I recall the terror as I fled from the ambush near the boat landing. The Kur's roar echoed through the valley, its claws snapping mere inches from my back. I sprinted up the winding road, my heart racing. The Kur toyed with me, its claws slicing through my thigh, my buttock, and various other spots, but never quite finishing me. 

It was a cruel game; the Kur allowing me to seem to outpace it, only to catch up at its leisure. I stumbled, my vision blurring from pain and exhaustion. The Kur's hot breath washed over me, its eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement.

Just as all hope seemed lost, a figure emerged from the trees.

Thrain, a warrior I'd never met, charged towards us, his broadsword at the ready.

"Not today, beast!" he shouted.

The Kur turned, its attention shifting from me to Thrain. Thrain's sword flashed, striking true. The Kur retaliated, its battle axe crashing down.Thrain dodged and weaved, his defense impressive. But even his skill couldn't withstand the Kur's relentless assault.

I stumbled onward, desperate to find a defensible position. Thrain covered me, his sword dancing between the Kur's attacks.

"Get to the rocks!" he shouted. "Use your bow!"

I reached the elevated rocks near the wall, my legs trembling. Thrain fought on, his broadsword slicing through the Kur's fur. The Kur's axe bit deep into the earth mere inches from Thrain's face.

I notched an arrow, my hands shaking. 

Thrain took a blow, his armor dented and torn.

The Kur raised its axe.

I drew the string.

Thrain stumbled back.

The Kur's eye, a tiny target, beckoned.

I released the arrow.

Time slowed.

The arrow flew true, piercing the Kur's eye. The beast bellowed, clutching its ruined socket.

Thrain stood panting. We exchanged a glance. The Kur retreated, vanishing into the trees.

Thrain approached. "By the Priest-Kings," he whispered, "you're a lucky man."

I nodded.

Thrain supported me as we limped through the city gates, my wounds screaming in protest. I expected scorn, or perhaps pity, but not the warm smile that greeted me. Lady Sorana rushed to my side, her wide brown eyes wide with concern.

Her hands gently explored my wounds, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Thrain's amused gaze met mine, and I felt a flush rise to my cheeks.

Sorana's attention focused on the claw-slash across my upper thigh and the axe-cut on my buttock. Her fingers traced the edges of the wounds, her face pale. "These require immediate attention," she murmured.

Thrain cleared his throat, his voice tinged with humor. "Perhaps, my lady, the other wounds should be tended to as well?"

Sorana's glance flicked to the gash across my chest and the cuts on my face, but her interest was cursory. "Those will heal," she said, waving her hand.

Thrain chuckled, shaking his head.

I felt a pang of embarrassment, but Sorana's gentle care soon soothed my pride.

A physician arrived, and Sorana's attention shifted to assisting him. Thrain's wounds, previously ignored, were now tended to with equal care. As the physician cleaned and bandaged my wounds, Sorana's hands remained on mine.

Ubar Jake approached, his face stern. "Thrain, report," he commanded.

Thrain recounted our battle with the Kur, his gaze meeting mine.

Ubar Jake's eyes narrowed. "Arealius, you're a lucky man. Thrain's bravery and your... marksmanship saved your life."

Sorana's smile returned.

"I'm grateful for their bravery, Uncle," she said.

Ubar Jake's expression softened. "Very well. You'll stay here, Arealius, until your wounds heal. We'll discuss your... presence later."

As the Ubar departed, Thrain clapped me on the back. "Seems you've found favor, vagabond."

I grinned. "Favor, or trouble?"

Thrain chuckled."Perhaps both."

As I recovered from my wounds, my mind turned to the river. The Olni's waters called to me, promising familiarity and comfort. I longed to return to Port Olni, where my skills as a scribe and boatman had earned me a decent living. Mountain life wasn't for me, and the Kurii's presence only added to my unease.

But then, there was Sorana. While exploring the Soaring Herlit's library, I'd catch glimpses of her, her eyes sparkling as she discovered me amidst the scrolls. Her surprise at my wit and knowledge delighted me.

As a Rencer from the Vosk River delta, I'd honed my skills with boats and words. The men and women of the mountains, less bound by tradition, accepted me. Sorana's presence in my life became commonplace, and I attended the Ubar's joyful rants where we drank and danced, her by my side.

Ubar Jake, to my surprise, didn't object. Perhaps he saw the good in me, or perhaps Sorana's happiness was enough. 

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountains, I turned to Sorana. "Come with me," I whispered. "Leave the mountains, and their dangers, behind."

Sorana's smile was all the answer I needed.

Together, we slipped away, heading west toward the coast. The Soaring Herlit vanished into the distance, its memories etched in my heart. I close this journal entry, a smile spreading across my face. The adventures we shared, the trials we faced, all worth it. Sorana, my love, my companion since Port Kar revisited, my everything. I glance out the window, the western horizon beckoning. Our story's far from over.